


Lost Loves and Wretched Thoughts

by TheCrimsonJaguar



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: (guys we need to make that a tag!!!), HEY Y'ALL, Happy Halloween, Multi, No Smut, Simon is Marceline's Dad, You Have Been Warned, also there's one really gross part, like seriously there's a reason this is rated M and it's not smut, we've got (hopefully) spooky stuff, we've got changelings, we've got it all, we've got pining over lost love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:15:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27297751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCrimsonJaguar/pseuds/TheCrimsonJaguar
Summary: Simon is trying to get his fiancé back.It's not going to happen.
Relationships: Betty Grof/Ice King | Simon Petrikov, Princess Bubblegum/Marceline
Comments: 20
Kudos: 56





	1. Lost Love

Simon looks at himself in the mirror of Marceline's bathroom. He's not quite sure why she has it- she has no reflection, but he refuses to question it. It's her house, it's her mirror, and he's just grateful he can look into it at all. 

And what he sees- he likes. He really does. Brown skin and brown hair, a pair of glasses and a very human face. He looks human. He hasn't looked human for a long time. He smiles at his reflection, but it doesn't reach his eyes. It usually doesn't.

And that's when he notices something. Something that breaks the illusion of 'human' he's regained. 

Simon frowns. He takes a strand of hair and gently pushes it behind his ear. 

It's pointed. His ear is pointed. It wasn't like that yesterday. He would have noticed. He has been checking his reflection often enough to reassure himself that he's normal again.

So the pointed ear is new. He must've grown it overnight. It's weird. He checks the other ear and sure enough, it's pointed. He stands in front of the mirror.

And he still looks human. His skin is still brown and his hair is still brown and he still has his glasses and a human face. But his ears are pointed, and that isn't human. He kinda looks like an old fashioned elf from human fantasy stories. 

And of course nobody in Ooo will care. Nobody would notice unless he points it out. And it- it doesn't mean anything. And even if it does, what could he do? It doesn't mean anything.

If Marceline found out she would worry. She's like that. She shouldn't worry about him. He's bothered her enough. So he pushes his hair back over his ears and smiles at the mirror.

And he's human enough. And after everything he went through, everything he's done, that's the most he could ever ask for. 

~~~

Simon is reading a book. It's thick and old. It's from the Oooian Library, courtesy of Turtle Princess. It's filled with all the known knowledge of the ancient gods. Not a whole lot about Golb, but, it'll do for now. Some information is better than none.

Marceline is upstairs playing guitar. He can hear a melody take form. Some of the notes even have lyrics to go with them. It's nice. 

He's sitting on the couch when Marcy floats down the stairs, ax guitar in hand. He looks up at her and smiles. He hopes it looks genuine. It apparently does because Marcy beams back at him.

"Sup, Simon." She greets, and then floats over to him. She hovers over his shoulder and looks at his tome.

"It's about ancient interdimensional beings," Simon clarifies, and she nods.

"For Betty?" Marcy asks, her voice oddly small.

"Yes," Simon says seriously.

Marceline just hums at that and then takes a 'seat' next to Simon on the couch. She pulls the guitar up close to her and starts strumming out a few chords, whistling a tune. Simon smiles again, but it's smaller this time. 

It's nice. It's very nice. He's spending time with Marceline. He feels like the luckiest man alive.

"Isn't the couch, like, super uncomfortable?" Marcy asks.

"Yes, but it beats an ice chair any day." Simon says.

Marceline looks over, a frown on her face until she catches Simon's playful grin. He made a joke. She smiles back, brighter than the sun, and they share a laugh. 

(She'll never say out loud, for a fear of being pushy, but she loves it when he smiles. When he tells jokes and grins when she teases him. It's a little hint of the man she met so long ago, the man she's missed for so long. That man is slowly coming back from the brink, from annihilation of the self, and she's terrified of losing him. Scared that any move she makes will somehow break him. But she's determined too. She's not losing him again.)

~~~

"Like a succubus?" Marceline asks, tilting her head. She's holding an apple, one from Treetrunk's orchard, and she tosses it into the air lazily.

"No, but it's similar." Simon says, pointing at the paragraph on the page about changelings. These types of changelings were very similar to a succubus, feeding off love and eventually leaving the victim a husk, but they could take the form of whoever they pleased. They could read minds and emotions, could manipulate minds until a person doesn't know what's real or not anymore. And their heads exploded when they died.

"They were made by one of the Scholars. Most of them were killed off in the Mushroom War, actually." Simon says. 

"Huh. I've never met one." Marcy says before sinking her teeth into the apple. She drains it and then expertly chucks it into the trash bin across the room. The bin topples over, spilling papers and apple cores everywhere.

"I imagine they aren't very welcome in Ooo. Billy had a vendetta against them, apparently. So they've got enough of a reputation that people know the signs of when they're out and about." Simon says. 

Marceline frowns at the bin before turning back to Simon.

"And you need some of their blood?" She asks.

"No- just a bone. Maybe two. A skull would be best, but those are apparently hard to preserve." He says.

Marcy nods before she goes over to the bin and kicks the spilled trash back into it. She rights the bin back up.

"You've been on a bit of an apple kick lately, huh?" Simon asks, pointing to all the cores.

Marceline laughs.

"Yeah- Treetrunks got wind of my 'red appetite' a while back and now she sends me a basket every month or so. Told me it was a peace offering in case I ever went rogue. I've got to go through them quick or else they'll rot." She says. 

Simon huffs out a laugh. The idea of Marceline ever going rogue was absurd. Almost as absurd as the thought of being able to bribe a vampire with fruit. Especially one like Marceline.

"Maybe save one for me, though?" Simon asks.

"Oh, sure dude." Marcy says.

~~~

The sun had risen. It shone brightly, the sky a brilliant blue. Creatures flew about, people went places, it's a beautiful day. 

Simon pulls out his notebook and begins to scribble down notes. 

Marceline had gone to bed a few hours before. She had gone out for a date with PB and Simon had smiled and waved her off. 

He smiles as he remembers her jokingly punching his arm and telling him not to get into trouble.

He yawns, a large, jaw-cracking thing. He begins to sketch down locations and maps onto his notebook. PB had given him a whole slew of materials when she heard of what he was doing. He appreciated it. They had been trying to get along after he had returned, to varying amounts of success. 

They usually just avoided situations where they would be left alone together, and that was working fine.

But every once in a while, PB would give Simon something. A set of notebooks. Some new clothes. A map of all the dungeons Finn had gone through that had items of power. Useful things.

He wishes she wouldn't do that. He doesn't need that. She doesn't need to. Simon's pretty sure she's only giving him things on Marceline's word anyways. And Simon feels bad because he can't give anything in return.

But he can't just not use the materials she gives. He needs them, and it would take time to get new items. Why go buy new notebooks when there's perfectly good ones right in front of him?

He sighs. He finishes the last touch on the image he was drawing and then sets the notebook to the side. He stares at the coffee table in front of him- stacked high with tomes and papers and maps. 

He feels tired.

He wonders what Betty feels.

He picks up another book and cracks it open to the marked page.

~~~

"And  _ then-  _ and then Bonnie kicked him in the face!" Marceline says, her words are split apart by rib cracking laughter.

Simon smiles, genuinely, because he's so, so happy for Marceline. She has so much fun with PB. And he's so happy for her, because he knows what that kind of love feels like. And he's so happy she found it for herself. And he's so glad she gets to keep that love.

He'd do anything to protect that love. She deserves it. She deserves the world. 

"Oh- but that's not even the best part." She says, continuing with a wry smile, "She stole his wallet!" 

Simon barks out a laugh. That was not something he'd ever expected the princess to do. Not without proper goading from her girlfriend, that is. For two individuals who are hundreds of years old, they sure do remind him of human teenagers.

Marceline's smile falls as he laughs.

"Whoa- Simon? Your teeth!" She says.

Simon stops laughing.

"My teeth?" He asks, his brow arched.

Simon frowns, and sticks a finger into his mouth. He feels his teeth, and the back ones are jagged and sharp. He gets up and rushes to the bathroom, Marceline fast on his heels.

He looks into the mirror and pulls his gums back with his fingers, examining his teeth. Sure enough, the molars are pointed like a shark's. They flatten out towards the front, so if he bared his teeth and didn't open his jaw it would be difficult to see if anything was wrong.

But there was something wrong. And what was wrong was his teeth.

He clacks his teeth together, the sharp molars fitting together like a puzzle.

"Simon?" Marceline asks behind him, worried. He turns, looking back at her. He had almost forgotten she was there. He couldn't see her behind him in the mirror because she didn't have a reflection.

"Yeah?" He responds.

"You're- you're okay, right?" She asks.

"Yes." He says, firmly. Like he believes it, "I'm okay." 

She floats forward, and she grabs his hand. He squeezes it, in a way he hopes is reassuring. He puts away his fear, his alarm. He's scared, yes, but he can deal with it. He can deal with anything if it gets rid of the worry that was etched into her eyes.

She smiles, a soft thing, a fragile thing. He smiles back. It's forced, but she doesn't know that.

(He wonders when he got so good at lying.)

~~~

It's daytime. Midday- twelve O' clock. It's bright, but Marceline was not in bed. She had gone to PB despite everything Simon said. The only reason she hadn't flown him to the candy kingdom right away is because he had convinced her he would be fine alone for a few minutes. That he  _ needed  _ to be alone for a few minutes. 

He looks into the mirror, at his reflection. He pushes his hair back, revealing his pointed ears. Opening his mouth, he runs his tongue along the new teeth. They're familiar.

Maybe they're not as new as he had hoped.

~~~

"The scans didn't find anything." PB says at last, after she had brought a machine over to Marceline's house, "He's as right as rain."

"Okay, but Bonnie-" Marceline insists.

"Marceline, it's fine." Simon says, cutting her off.

"Wha- No! No it isn't, Simon!" She says, turning to him.

"Marcy-" He begins, "Marcy, I don't think I'm turning into the Ice King again."

She stares at him, her eyes wide.

Nobody says anything for a moment.

Bonnibel looks uncomfortable.

"How do you-" Marceline starts.

"Know?" Simon finishes, "Because I know. I know what it feels like, and it's not good. It's horrible. It's bad. I don't feel that now. I feel fine."

Marceline looks to her feet, which are hovering off the ground, and then slowly lowers herself until she's standing. She steps a few feet forward until she suddenly wraps Simon in a bone-crushing hug.

"Promise me you'll be okay." She whispers.

"I-" Simon's voice catches in his throat, "I promise." 

She pulls back and smiles, her eyes watery.

Simon smiles back, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

~~~

It's been a few weeks since the teeth incident. Simon has been looking for a house, to no avail. Especially since the Golb research is taking up most of his time. 

Marceline had calmed down since then. She had, in the first few days afterwards, come up to him at random hours of the day and pried his jaw open, checking his teeth. After it became clear they weren't changing, and another promise from Simon that he would tell her if anything else popped up, she had relented on her random inspections. 

Simon had not stopped his daily ritual. He's checked himself in the mirror every day since his return, and has taken to keeping a mental list of abnormal things about his appearance.

So far it has:

*Pointed ears

*Sharp teeth

Which wasn't too bad, all things considering. He could be blue and icy.

~~~

"Are you sure?" Marceline asks, her voice quiet.

"Yes." Simon affirms, "Bubblegum asked you to help her with the peace summit, remember? You need to be there," 

"But what about you? Can't you wait?" She asks.

They've had this conversation before. Simon needed changeling bones. Changelings only appeared for a month or so every year. There were no changelings in Ooo, according to the search Finn and Jake did. He trusts their judgement.

So he's leaving Ooo for about two weeks. He'll find a changeling, somehow. Kill it, somehow. He'll come back successful and he'll be one step closer to saving Betty.

And he'll laugh about how needlessly worried Marceline was. 

But for now, he needs to quell her worries.

"The longer I wait-"

"The less chance you might have at saving Betty, right." Marceline says, sighing. She runs a hand through her cropped hair and bites her lip.

Simon grabs her free hand and squeezes it gently.

"I'll come back soon. Two weeks, at most. I might-" His voice hitches, "I might not even find a changeling. And then we'll both look silly, huh?"

She smiles, gentle, and squeezes back.

"Okay." She sucks in a breath, "Okay. But you've got to come back, okay? And if you don't I'm getting Bonnie to send a whole battalion after you. And Finn and Jake will come too. And I'll even get Dad to-"

Simon cringes.

"Marcy." He says earnestly, "I know. I would do the same for you." 

She's silent for a moment before he's crushed in a hug. 

(He would do so much more for her. If she went missing- well. He doesn't like to think about that. Something in him whispers  _ "Betty, Betty, Betty" _ insistently every time he thinks of Golb. But the thought of Marceline going missing makes that voice  _ scream _ .)

~~~

Marceline waves him off as he boards his ship. It hovers a few feet above the ground, the only thing connecting it to the ground being the boarding bridge. The bridge slips back up and into the ship as he waves back.

The door shuts with a hiss of air. Simon sighs. He walks to the controls and sits down in the chair. It's standard Oooian flight technology, with a bit of flare and extra gadgets courtesy of PB. He presses a few buttons and the flier rises. He's got enough supplies for a month, by demand of both Marceline and Finn, actually.

He had been surprised when Finn had dropped by and stuffed his ship with snacks and 'nerd books' as he called it. Finn had looked him in the eye and told him to come back. That he needed to tell him about ancient humans still and he couldn't do that if he kicked it. It was oddly sweet.

Simon appreciates it.

There's a  _ CLUNK  _ and the flier halts it’s ascension.

Simon looks up from the controls, startled.

And Marceline is pressing her face against the glass, looking worryingly smushed.

"Marcy?" He asks.

"Can I get another goodbye hug?" She asks through the glass.

He smiles. His eyes crinkle.

"Of course," He says. 

~~~

The sea gives way to land, eventually. It had taken half the day to get to land, but he'd gotten there. He looks over the landscape. It's not as bright as Ooo, not as alive. He doubts anywhere on earth is. Ooo is one of a kind. 

He needs to find civilization. That would be difficult considering most of the landmasses on earth were still mildly radioactive. If he could find people, and amount, there was a good chance there'd be a changeling. 

He's not quite sure how he's going to kill a changeling. They have a few weaknesses he knows about. Mainly water and fire, so. He's got that going for him. 

If Betty had been there she might have suggested a water gun. He has no idea if that would work, but she would try it anyway, consequences be damned. 

He smiles, gently, sadly, remembering all of her quirks. The few short years they dated were maybe some of the best years of his life.

He can't wait to have her back.

~~~

There's a cave. It's large and ominous- like the open maw of a dragon. He can't see the interior all that well, but after four days of searching, the trail ends here. Simon knows what's in there is bad news. He knows that it could likely kill him if he makes one wrong move.

But he's come this far. A thousand years. Two wars. So many lost lives. So much gained. 

He won't die. He refuses. And, just for his own peace of mind, he recalls what Death had said a while ago. He'll be alive until the sun blows up.

He sucks in a breath, hard, and storms into the cave.

(And the cave storms into him.)

~~~

"-And what about Carol?" Someone asks.

Simon blinks. He looks around. He's on West Street, right on the cusp of Main and East. There are people milling about on the sidewalks, and there are cars driving on the road. He looks down at his hands, and finds that one of them is holding someone else's hand. The other hand is pale.

His eyes travel up from the hand to the arm, which is wrapped in a green sweater. And the arm in a green sweater is attached to-

"Betty?" He asks, his eyes widening. 

"Uh- yeah?" She asks, her eyebrow raising. Her glasses are clean and her hair is tied back in a ponytail. 

"Betty! You- You're-!" Simon splutters for words.

"I'm...?" She asks slowly.

_ She's?  _

Simon's brow furrows.

"I don't know." He says quietly, not daring to look away. She grins, wry and genial, and squeezes his hand. He squeezes back. She's... she's what?

"Hey- So you forgot what you were going to say. It's alright. I do it all the time, remember?" Betty says.

"I-" Simon thinks, "Yes, you do." 

"So it's alright for you to do it too. It's not a big deal." Betty says, shrugging, "Oh- and that reminds me, what about Carol?"

Simon stares.

"Carol?" He asks.

"Yeah, Carol Hemmings? Our friend? Her birthday is coming up and we still have to get something for her." She says. 

Simon pauses before it hits him. Carol. Carol from college. Carol who helped with his chemistry work when he was in the hospital with the flu. Carol.

"Oh!" He says in realization, "Well, I think she'd love-"

Simon stops. His mouth opens, then closes, then repeats.

"She'd love...?" Betty asks slowly.

"I-" His breath hitches, what had he been saying? "I'm sorry, I think I'm out of it today..." 

Betty elbows him playfully. 

"Aw, it's no big deal. Her bid day isn't for another week anyway. We got time. Let's go to that one seafood place for dinner and we can continue the present hunt later, okay?" She says.

Simon heaves a sigh of relief. Of course she'd understand. He nods gratefully. She understands. Of course she understands. She's Betty. She'll always understand. 

"Seafood sounds wonderful," He says. He smiles at Betty, she smiles back. 

(It feels like he's waited a very long time to do that.) 


	2. Wretched Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon's in for a rough time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween!!!

The next morning, after dinner and after talking about weekend plans, he wakes up before Betty. She's sleeping peacefully besides him, snoring. She'd deny it to her grave, but Betty's snores could wake the dead.

He sits up, gently removing Betty's arm from his chest, and slides out of bed. His back kinda aches- probably from the funky sleeping position. He cracks his knuckles and breathes in deep. The air is fresh and smells like home.

A few stray tears fall from his eyes for some odd reason. He wipes them away. There's no need to be emotional. 

"Mmm... Simon?" Betty mumbles, shifting around and looking up at him sleepily.

"Shh, go back to sleep. I'll bring you breakfast." He whispers to her.

A smile stretches across her face and he feels fuzzy inside.

"Oh, Simon, this is why I love you..." She mumbles.

He smiles and leans down, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.

Her smile grows, becoming coy.

"What's with that look?" Simon asks warmly. What could she be thinking about?

"Nothin'." She says, "I just love you is all." 

Simon beams.

"I love you too."

~~~

Simon pours pancake batter into the buttered pan, the batter making a perfect circle. He pulls the other pan off the heat and sets the strips of bacon on a plate. Using the spatula, he gently cuts the bacon into smaller pieces.

He unceremoniously dumps the bacon bits into the pancake. Then he flips it, cooking the other side.

Betty loves bacon and pancakes. It only stands to reason that she'll like the two of them put together. She dipped her bacon into the syrup and then sucked it off the meat- which was super gross honestly but it was Betty.

And he'd be lying if he wasn't gross too, so the grossness meter evens out between the two of them.

He puts the last pancake on the plate and grabs the syrup from the fridge. He drenches the pancakes just the way she likes them and puts the bottle back in the fridge.

He smiles at his work, unreasonable proud of himself for remembering the way she takes her pancakes, and heads back to their room.

He raps his knuckles on the door.

"Knock knock." He says.

There's shuffling and then a muffled voice calls back:

"Who's there?"

"Breakfast delivery man." Simon says.

"Ooh! Is that bacon I smell?" Betty asks through the door, sounding more awake.

He opens the door and walks in, seeing Betty sitting upright in their bed, smiling softly as she tries to simultaneously wrap up in blankets and reach for the plate. 

"I made bacon pancakes." Simon says, grinning, so, _so_ happy.

Betty raises an eyebrow.

"Is that what I think it is?" She asks.

"If what you think it is happens to bacon in pancakes, then yes," He says, setting the plate on her lap.

"Ooh, that looks good." She says, grabbing the fork and cutting off a piece. She shoves it into her mouth and seems to savor the flavor. She swallows and nods approvingly.

"Simon." She says, seriously, looking at him, "This is the best idea you've ever had."

Simon laughs.

"Well, it wasn't my idea. Jake's the one who taught me how to get the bacon just right." Simon says, crawling back into bed and sitting close to Betty.

Betty pauses between bites, and looks at him confused.

"Jake?" She asks, her mouth full. She chews and then swallows.

"Is that the guy from the deli?" She asks.

"Uh, no? He's-" Simon says, and then stops.

He's?

"He's..." Simon trails off and then huffs. He knows this. It's at the tip of his tongue. Jake. Jake. Jake who? The name 'Dogzone' rings a bell, but he's certain that's not right.

"He's Jake." Simon finishes at last, slumping a bit.

Betty pats his shoulder.

"He's probably not important." She says, "Perhaps he's a cook show host or something." 

"How can you know that?" Simon asks.

"Well if you learned the recipe from him-"

"No, no. How do you know he's not important?" Simon asks.

Betty turns to him, a bit of syrup sliding down her chin. She wipes it off and looks at him kindly.

"If you can't remember, it was probably never important in the first place," She says, smiling.

Simon nods, but he’s still frowning.

"I suppose..." Simon says.

She leans forward and kisses him on the lips. She tastes sweet and salty, and he vaguely smells her shampoo. It smells like strawberry. Simon quickly melts into the kiss and pushes back, lifting his hand to her ear and tilting his head.

He feels warm and fuzzy inside, and he forgets what he had been saying. And like Betty said, if he couldn't remember, it probably wasn't important.

~~~

They're giggling. They're at the petting zoo, because Simon loves the petting zoo, and because this zoo is an animal sanctuary as well. Betty was grinning broadly and holding up a camera to Simon, who was surrounded by all the goats in the enclosure.

"You look like a Disney Princess," She says, taking a picture.

"Who says I'm not?" He asks, grinning, petting a goat. One of the other goats, who Simon had stopped petting, got jealous and headbutted his current goat aside. 

"Hey, hey, I've got two hands guys," He says to the goats, scratching both of them.

"Yeah, but you've got, like, twelve goats to pet." Betty points out.

"You could get over here and help me, y'know." Simon says.

"And what? Get headbutted? You know what happened last time I came in contact with a goat." She says, lowering the camera and putting a hand on her hip. Simon smiled broadly at the sudden memory. He and Betty were hiking up a mountain path and had encountered a goat. Betty, ever the animal enthusiast, had hesitantly held her hand out. 

The goat had then bitten her hand and then rammed it's head into her gut, to which she grabbed it by the horns and threw it up a tree. An amazing feat of strength, looking back, and the goat had looked so surprised. He had laughed then.

Simon laughs now, the memory sweet in his mind.

"I think you're actually sparing the goats and not yourself, dear." He says.

Betty rolls her eyes, both hands on her hips now.

"Whatever you say, Disney Princess." She says good naturedly.

"Hey, you're my princess too-" Simon says, but his voice catches at the end.

Saying that felt... felt _wrong_ , somehow.

"Hey? Wassup?" Betty asks, worried.

He looks up from the goats, catching the worried expression etched into her face. He wants nothing more than to smooth out the worry lines and make her smile again.

"Nothing, dear. Just had another fake memory." Simon says, "It's gone, now."

"Oh." She says, blinking. "Why didn't you say something?" 

"I didn't want to worry you. It's fine." Simon says earnestly.

Betty looks like she wants to protest, but she clicks her mouth shut and instead takes a picture of the goat chewing Simon's shoelace.

The fake memories, as Betty had taken to calling them, were happening more frequently. Little things, really. A conversation here and there that didn't happen, a bad dream that happened when he was awake. A bad feeling or two when he thought of politics.

Betty told him it was because he was stressed out from his work. Which was probably true, and she would know since she had a PHD in psychology. His mind was freaked out from work and was creating more problems for him when he didn't have any.

So he took a vacation, and he and Betty had been making the most of it.

A goat bleats at him as his hand moves away to pet another animal. 

"Shh, you." Simon says.

Betty giggles.

He feels warm.

~~~

They're having dinner at home. Simon had ordered out and Betty had chosen the movie, and now they were snuggling together on the couch watching a B movie about vampiric bees.

Betty especially loves these movies, Simon knows. Loves the horrible effects and the cheesy acting. That was part of the reason she loves his creative writing so much, which, to be fair, is pretty bad.

"Oh no!" The pretty woman on the screen cries dramatically, "My blood! It's being drained! By the hive!"

Simon chuckles.

"That's not how that would work," Simon says idly.

"Hmm?" Betty says, snuggled into the crook of his arm, "Then how would it work, smart guy?"

"Mmm..." Simon hums, "She wouldn't have time to scream like that, with a real vampire." 

Betty giggles.

"And how would you know?" She asks, "Have you ever met a vampire?" 

"Why yes, I have actually." The words leave his lips before he has time to stop them. And he's certain of them. He has met a vampire. He's met a lot of vampires, but the evil ones aren't around anymore. Good riddance.

Betty raises an eyebrow before realization seems to strike her. She smiles softly, gently.

"Oh Simon," She says sadly, "Another one?"

Simon blinks. Another what?

"Another what?" He asks.

"Simon, vampires aren't _real_. You did it again," She says softly.

Simon blinks.

It's a fake memory.

Oh.

" _Oh_." He says, his voice small.

"Hey- it's okay. You're getting over this. You're doing better. This is like, the first fake you've had in how long? Ten days? That's so much more than before." She says, trying to reassure him.

"...Oh." He says. His breathing picks up and he looks away. 

"Simon, it's okay." Betty says. 

"It- it really isn't." He says, almost whispering.

"You can't help it,"

"I know- I just..." He tapers off.

"I just wish they didn't feel so real." He says at last.

Betty hugs him, tucking her head under his chin and holding him tight. He hugs back, even tighter, because Betty's the only anchor he has to reality sometimes.

A few tears fall down his cheeks and drop onto Betty's head. Her hand snaps up and wipes the water off.

"Shh, no more tears." She whispers into his collar, "Soon all these fakes will be a thing of the past. You'll never have to worry about this again. I promise." 

Simon nods numbly.

He looks at the screen, which had been paused. He catches his reflection in a dark spot on the screen, only half his face showing. He looks tired. His hair's a mess.

His hand, moving on it's own, moves up and shoves a strand of hair behind his ear.

And his ear- 

-His ear is

(His teeth are)

And his face

(And he's human)

But he's 

_He's_

  
  


Simon sits up abruptly. He knocks over Betty in the process. She yelps something in surprise but he's not paying attention to that. He races to the bathroom, Betty's worried voice trailing after him.

He throws open the door and stares at himself in the mirror. His heart is racing (but it isn't) and his eyes are wide. He pulls back his hair with his hands, nearly to the point of pain, and sucks in a breath.

His ears are pointed.

He bares his teeth and it's like looking into the jaws of a shark.

"Simon?" Betty calls quietly, "Are you alright?" 

Her.

_It_.

It's not real.

None of this- none of this is his. 

Simon straightens his back and lets his hair back down. He turns slowly to the figure standing uncertainly in the doorway.

It has a nervous frown on her face. It doesn't reach the eyes.

"How long have you kept me here?" Simon asks lowly, his eyes narrowed.

"Simon, what are you-"

" _Cut the crap_." Simon snaps, "How long?"

The thing, the changeling, continues to look worried for a second more before the façade drops. 

She frowns, seemingly disappointed, and mulls something over.

"You'll never save her," It says at last.

Simon feels a fire in his gut.

"How. Long. Have. I. _Been_. _Here?"_ Simon grinds out.

"It doesn't matter," It huffs, "You're never leaving."

"People will start looking for me." He says.

"They'll never find you." It says confidently.

"They will," Simon says, because it's true, "They're going to start looking for me after two weeks. And if I found you after four days..."

It doesn't react.

"How long do _you_ have?" He asks.

It's eyes are cold. Colder than Betty's eyes could ever be. How had this... this _thing_ , fooled him?

"You're the first human I've fed off in a very, _very_ long time." It says with Betty's voice, "I've forgotten some things. Like just how delicious human love is, how rich it is to eat," 

It walks forward until they're eye to eye.

"I haven't felt this good in millennia," It hisses, "But you know what else I forgot?"

It reaches out, as fast as a bullet, and grabs his throat and yanks him down close to her face.

"I forgot just how _stubborn_ you idiots can be." 

~~~

He wakes to a million tiny sores. His eyes flutter open, a heavy weight in his bones. He's sitting- more like laying- on something hard and cold. He's weak. He's so weak. It feels like he's been through a meat grinder.

He looks around. It's dark. The only light is from several candles on the floor which have melted into large piles of wax. He's in a cave, he thinks, from before. The one he entered. It's musty and dry.

Something scuttles in the darkness.

Simon tries to move. He fails. He's too weak.

He's covered in something- _somethings_. He glances down. A pile of animal skins.

How long-?

Simon groans. The scuttling gets louder.

"You awaken," Something hisses. 

Simon manages to lift his head enough to see a large, spider-like insectoid crawl down the wall from the ceiling. It has Betty's face, but nothing else. It's eyes are empty; hollow. The inside of its mouth looks like his nightmares.

"Unfortunately," Simon mutters.

"This would have been easier if you had just played along," It says, it's voice a thousand scratching knives. 

"Now I have to drain you before your _rescue-_ " It says the word like a slur, "-comes." 

"You're stupid," Simon says, for lack of any witty comeback or sly remark, "Real dumb." 

It hisses, a grating sound, and scuttles forward and pushes Betty's face into his. It's jaw unhinges and a hundred spindling tongues reach out and caress his face. He winces at the feeling, they're cold and slimy and they reek like poison.

Did he actually kiss this thing or was that all in his head?

"And you're a _fool_ ," It seethes, "An idiot, a coward, a villain."

The tongues leave trails of mucus across his face, the many tendrils finding their way into his nose and mouth. He's not sure how it's talking.

"I do what I do because I have to. I need to eat to live. What's your excuse little human? Why do you steal people away?" It asks. 

He shakes his head. He doesn't _do_ that anymore. He wasn't in his right mind. He apologized. He's worked so hard to undo his mistakes. He's so, so sorry. He wants to scream, but he can't. Not with his mouth filled with evil.

"Because you're _lonely_ ," It says, taunting, "So pathetic, so vile. Little liar, do you know why people end up here?" 

The tongues reach down into his throat and steal his needed oxygen. The ones in his nose wriggle up and in until he can feel them in his mouth, touching his teeth. Other tongues are wrapping around his neck, going into his ears. One of them is prying under his eyelid.

"They end up here when they're worthless," It whispers, "And then they _don't leave."_

The face presses forward until they're nose to nose, an imitation of a kiss. The eyes flutter, and the eyelashes brush his cheeks. 

His breathing is labored, his chest is heaving. He doesn't have the energy to survive this. He looks around frantically for a way out.

A dozen sharp legs grab onto him and he's suddenly dragged underneath the creature. His face is still being assaulted by the tongues, the legs are slowly piercing the exposed flesh of his arms.

"You've been delicious, little liar, but it’s time our fun comes to a close." 

His hands, weak as they are, grab two of the legs. The creature doesn't notice or doesn't care. Simon lets go of one leg and puts his attention into freeing only one of his arms. He wiggles his arm, tugs on it, finally freeing it with a soft squelch of skin. The changeling readjusts, but the leg doesn't pin his arm down again. 

Simon reaches out to the side, the tongues traveling down his esophagus and creeping under his collar, and grasps a candle. 

Hot wax coats his fingers as he thrusts the flame to the face in front of him. 

The changeling rears back, a wretched noise splitting the air, the tongues sliding free of Simon's throat. His teeth and tongue are coated in muck.

Simon gasps, and in an act of pure instinct rolls desperately to the side to avoid the sudden crash of the creature to the floor.

"My eyes- My _eyes!"_ It screeches, _"What have you done to my eyes!?"_

Simon's vision is swimming, his sense of balance was thrown out the window and his strength was nowhere to be found. He manages to lift his gaze to the creature's face, which had begun to melt like the many candles around it. He's rolled out from under the animal skins, the skins-

Oh Glob. Those aren't animals.

The skins are still under the creature. They won't be for long. The changeling is slowly pulling itself up, screaming and scrabbling at the wax and stone around it. 

He's still holding the candle. It's not lit anymore. 

He reaches for another candle. It's too far away- he's too weak to move closer. He brings his candle out instead, and it's almost enough to reach. If he can just light it...

The scratching and screeching change into ragged breathing, the cries of the monster becoming discernable. 

_"YOU."_

Simon strains his arm to the candle, the wicks almost close enough to light.

_"YOU FOOL."_

There's a sound like the earth splitting open and a swarm of insects flying out of the seam.

The candles connect, and the wick is lit.

_"WHERE ARE YOU?"_

Simon turns and reaches for the skins. The candle is pressed to the dry skins.

_"I'LL DEVOUR YOUR HEART."_

The obscene quilt made from faces catches fire.

"I don't have a heart," Simon rasps. 

The fire spreads.

The changeling _wails_ , the sound so loud it cuts through Simon's ears.

He turns his head enough to see the flames wrap around the carapace of the changeling, burning through the underbelly first and searing through it's eyes. It looks like a jack O' lantern from hell.

Or maybe the Nightosphere, on second thought.

It screeches all the way until the fire burns it's legs and it's shell and it's stolen face. Glowing cracks appear in the half-melted skull and it swells until it _cracks_ and splits apart with a _BOOM_. The corpse of the changeling collapses to the floor covered in ashes.

The cave is filled with smoke, and Simon feels faint.

His eyes close.

He killed it, in the end.

~~~

He wakes. He's surprised, but also not surprised. He looks around. It's pitch black. It smells like ash and smoke. His mouth tastes foul. He aches down to his very bones. But, he can move. He's not as weak as he was before.

Probably because the changeling was dead.

He sits up slowly, and using his hands to find the wall of the cavern, he stands. He wobbles a bit, but he manages. 

He can't see a thing.

He needs those bones.

He stumbles through the dark, almost tripping over several candles, and finds the corpse. It’s ashy, and still kind of warm, and Simon runs his hands along the carapace until he finds a split seam in the body. He reaches in, not knowing what to expect. 

It's all dust. He can feel other things in the dust, but they're not bones. He doesn't want to know. Eventually, when half of his forearm is submerged in changeling ash, he touches ribs. Holding onto the bone, he pulls with all his might.

It pops out easily, the bone snapping under minimal pressure. He's thrown a bit back by surprise, but he's got it. He's got the bone.

Simon sighs in relief. 

Putting his hand on the wall as a guide, Simon walks to find his way out. 

(It takes a while.)

~~~

The sun is on the horizon as he leaves. He's not familiar with the scenery in front of him. He doesn't see his flier anywhere. The dim light seems blinding now that he’s finally free of the cave's darkness.

He looks down at himself. He's coated in ash. That's to be expected. 

He looks up at the sky, trying to decide if the sun was setting or rising.

"Hey! You! Where's Simon?!" A familiar voice calls out.

A surge of hope and relief floods him.

Simon turns just in time to see Marceline land with a loud thud. Which he can't exactly hear all too well, actually. He might have some hearing loss after that changeling screamed his ear off.

_"Marceline!"_ He says, overjoyed.

Marceline's scowl falls immediately.

"Simon?" She asks, sounding alarmed, "What happened to you!?"

Simon smiles weakly. It doesn't reach his eyes at all.

He holds up the rib.

"I got it," He says quietly.

"Simon you look half dead," She says, and then she's rushing forward and brushing the soot off him and then she's carrying him after he almost fainted. 

They're flying through the air. Simon can see that the sun is dipping below the horizon. It's sunset.

"How-" He sucks in a breath, "How long has it been?"

"Since you left? Two weeks. I said I'd look for you." She said.

"Hah," He laughs weakly, "You sure did."

They fly in comfortable silence. The sun's last rays are disappearing behind the horizon, now. It's a beautiful sunset. He looks back at Marceline, who still looks worried, but also relieved. He worried her. He makes a promise to himself that he'll never do it again. 

"We're going to talk about this when you're better," She says.

"I know, Marcy. We will." Simon relents, knowing arguing would be useless.

She smiles down at him, subtly. Like she's trying not to cry.

Her worry lines are illuminated by the vanishing light, making her illusion of youth falter slightly. 

Simon frowns. 

He looks back at the setting sun.

Then to Marceline.

Marceline is a vampire.

She's in the light.

Simon feels cold.

(They end up here when they're worthless.)

(And then they _don't leave._ )

~~~

He's falling. From where, he doesn't know because he's certain he was never in the air. He's never going to hit the ground.

He's dreaming.

He recalls something, something from seemingly a lifetime ago. 

A quote from a book. About ancient interdimensional beings and their spawn. It seems important.

_"A changeling's head explodes upon death, making it difficult to preserve the skull for usage. The dust that is released into the air when the head explodes is extremely toxic, however, and is not to be inhaled or ingested._

_"In high enough quantities, the dust can induce fever, hallucinations, and paralysis of limbs. Prolonged exposure can prove to be lethal."_

Simon thinks. 

He thinks as he falls seemingly forever that he might not get out of this one.

Not alive, anyway.

(He forgets; _"Till the sun blows up."_ )

~~~

He's in a black void. There is nothing there. Except him, and someone else.

It's Betty. 

She's dressed in a long red dress, golden ribbons wrapping her hair. Her eyes seem knowing, but her posture screams 'tired'. She smiles sadly.

"Hello," She says.

"Hi," He says back.

They stand there for a moment, neither saying anything.

"Are you real?" Simon asks at last. 

"Yes." She says.

"I-" He breathes, "I'm trying to get you back." 

Her eyes crinkle as her smile falters.

"I know." She nods.

"And I know it's taking a while- but I promise I'll get you out of there. I just need to get a few more things-"

_"Simon."_

Simon stops. 

"You need to stop." She says.

Simon blinks.

"No." He says immediately after the words process.

"Yes." 

"You wouldn't stop for me. You _didn't_ stop for me." He says, and then adds, "You're not real."

"I'm not _real_ ," She repeats, incredulous, arching an eyebrow.

"Betty wouldn't give up," He says, "Not on me, not on herself." 

She looked at him. Her eyes were soft. He hand reached for his, but he took a step back.

"Oh Simon." She looks away, "You can't deny the truth just because you don't like it."

"I'm not denying the truth, because it's not true at all. You're a hallucination, and I don't need to listen to you." Simon says. He should've known. Should have guessed it right from the start. Of course he's not in a void with his fiancé who was currently Golb. Of course not. 

He turns away, facing the void. He could just walk off until... until what? He wakes up? He hallucinates again?

He _dies?_

The option seems better than staying here with another fake Betty.

Her hands are suddenly on his shoulders. He stiffens. He's reminded suddenly of a very, very long time ago. When he had come home sore and stiff, bruised and sad. Betty had stopped what she was doing and sat him down on the couch, walked behind it and given him a shoulder rub.

She had whispered things like _'I love you'_ and _'you're worth the world to me',_ and he had melted. 

"You can be so stubborn, sometimes." She murmurs.

"I've been stubborn my entire life," He says.

"You have." She concedes, "And it's kept you alive."

"All the more reason to continue being so," He says, brushing her hands off his shoulders.

He can't see her, but he's certain that she wilts.

"You need to let go, Simon." She says.

"No," Simon says, _"No."_

Something hot and angry blooms in his chest. He turns on his heel and points an accusing finger at the fake.

"I've waited. I've fought and I've suffered and I've _waited_. A _thousand_ years. I've waited a thousand years for you. For _her_. All those years- all that time won't be for nothing. I _refuse_. I'll save her." He says, conviction running through his veins like lightning.

She looks at him sadly, pitying.

"And what about Marceline?" Betty asks.

Simon squints.

"What about her?" He asks. What does she have to do with Betty?

"She's worried about you." Betty explains, "You've been running yourself ragged trying to get to me." 

Simon pauses.

"I've dealt with worse. She knows that," He finally says, and she nods.

"You have. In much worse circumstances and with much steeper consequences. But those times are gone, Simon. Long gone. You don't need to suffer anymore." She says quietly.

_"Yes I-"_ Simon inhales, "I won't stop. I can't. I love her." His voice breaks and he can feel tears threatening to spill. He scrubs his eyes, willing the tears back.

"I love you too." Betty says, her eyes wet.

"You're not Betty." He says.

"You can't deny the truth just because you don't like it." She says again, and Simon wants to scream.

"You're not real!" Simon says, louder, and then completely falters, "You _can't_ be!" 

He falls to his knees, the abrupt action bringing no pain. He can feel her eyes on him like spotlights.

"You _can't_." He says, staring downwards.

"Simon..." Betty whispers. She sounds heartbroken. She sounds like how he feels.

She kneels in front of him, and puts her hands back on his shoulders.

"I'm not the woman you fell in love with a thousand years ago." She says.

He huffs. He knows that. She's fake.

"And you're not the man I fell in love with either." She says.

Simon looks up.

"What?" He asks.

"Simon- you've changed. So much. I have too. But you? You've lived at least ten lifetimes without me. You know more about magic and science now than you ever did about history. You've survived _nuclear fallout_. You made friends and enemies and- and you're a completely different man." She says.

"I changed because I merged with Golb. I'm part of the multiverse, now, Simon. I can see things, know things, I can do whatever it is I want- except be with you." She says.

"Betty, please..." He says.

"I met you a thousand years ago." She says, "At college. We were so happy then. We had friends, family. We had lives and a house and careers and-" 

"And?" Simon asks.

"And that's all gone." She says, "And we can't bring it back."

"But-" Simon flounders for words, "Can't we have something new? Can't we _try?"_

She shakes her head sadly.

"I loved the man you used to be, Simon." She says, "You were smart but funny. You were playful but kind. You were everything I had ever dreamed of." 

"And- and what am I now?" He asks, his strength fading and the tears flowed freely, now.

"You're _you_." She says, "Tired, jaded. You don't smile as often, but when you do, it's so earnest. You care so much, so, _so_ much. But you're scared, too. Of overstepping imaginary boundaries. Of being truly happy where you are. You weren't like this before."

"I- I just-"

"You don't want to lose it all again. I know, Simon." She says. 

They stay like that for a while longer.

"You love her more than me." Betty says at last. It's not an accusation, and it's not said in malice. It's a fact, and she treats it as such.

"The past-version of you?" Simon asks, not looking up at her.

"Marceline." Betty says.

He's quiet.

He loves Marceline. Like she's his own. He remembers their time together so long ago. Cherishes it. Those memories were the ones he fought the hardest to keep. He remembers telling her stories and singing her songs. Holding her hand and promising things he could never give. But for her, he would try. 

Marceline had looked up to him like he had put the stars in the sky. And that feeling, of her hand in his, of her admiration and love, was strong. Stronger than anything else he's ever felt. It burned away the ice forming around his heart.

(Once, when it was late, and fire had died, and the stars creeped out from an unusual cloud parting, she had mumbled in her sleep. He had whispered to her: "Go back to sleep, Marceline. We've got a big day tomorrow." and she had nodded and said: "Okay, daddy.")

(It had made every sacrifice, all the pain and strife, every lost memory worth it. At that moment he knew he would do anything- _everything_ for this girl.)

"If you had to choose between Marceline and me, who would you choose?" Betty asks.

He makes a broken sound. He feels an ache in his chest where his heart used to be. It feels like he's being interrogated.

"I already know the answer, Simon." Betty says.

"You would choose Marceline."

She's right.

Marceline is...

(The only family he has left)

(His daughter)

Worth the world and more.

"And that's what you need to do now." 

Simon snaps his gaze up to Betty.

"What?" He asks, alarmed.

"She's been looking for you. It's been two months, Simon." She says, "She's going to find you soon."

"Two- _two months?!_ " He shouts, jumping to his feet. He rakes his hands through his hair, "How am I still alive!?"

Betty winces.

He stares at her. At the void around them. At the golden ribbons in her hair, like the ones that wrapped around Golb's new form. (I can do whatever it is I want- except be with you.)

"Oh no no no no no..." He says, dread forming like a stone in his chest.

"You're not dead, Simon. Not fully. You'll be brought back completely once they find you." She says.

"You- you're keeping me..." 

"Yes." 

Simon looks at his feet.

"Oh." He whispers, "When-"

"Do you go back?" She finishes.

He nods.

"Now." 

~~~

He's being carried again. But things feel different now. All sensation feels distant and blurry. He can't move, can't see, can't hear. 

But he can breathe, and the air feels real. It's enough.

~~~

He can hear the low thrum of the flier as it takes off. He's on the bed in the ship, and someone is rubbing a wet cloth over him. He's not wearing his shirt. He pries an eye open.

"Where-" He coughs suddenly, wet and dry at the same time, and barely makes it to the side of the bed before he's hacking up a glob of blackened, ashy slime. 

"Simon!" A voice yells, "Simon, oh my Grop, you're awake," 

Hands, warm and strong, are shoving him back into place. 

He looks around. He's in his flier.

"Yup," He rasps.

He twitches his fingers. Now that he's thinking about it, everything is difficult to move. And he's freezing. Why is he so cold?

He shudders involuntarily. 

"Oh, Simon, I'm sorry, but we need to get this stuff off of you," 

Simon looks up, and lo and behold, there's Marceline.

"Oh yeah, that soot you're covered in is really jacking up your bod," Says another voice from the cockpit.

Simon looks over to see PB sitting in the seat, piloting the flier.

"Yeah, it's like, paralyzing you." Marceline says, and dumps her rag into a water bucket next to her.

"Cold," He says without thinking.

Marceline winces.

"Yeah, the water we got was from the lake nearby. Sorry." She says apologetically. She wrings the rag out over the bucket and then wipes away the soot on his arms.

"S'okay." He mumbles, settling back into the bed.

They're silent for a few minutes. Marceline washing him off, PB driving, and Simon trying not to fall asleep. He hates it.

"M'sorry." He says, turning to Marcy.

"Simon, just-" She sucks in a breath, "Don't." 

"Yeah man," PB says from the front, "You've apologized enough for, like, fifty years. Give it a break dude."

He frowns. He doesn't think he could ever apologize enough. Not for what he's done.

When she brings the rag back up to his neck, he manages to catch it in his hand.

"Simon?" She asks, confused.

"'Can do it," He says sitting up. And he can. He's already regained a lot of strength. He gently pries the rag from her grip to no avail. 

Using her other hand, she gently pushes him back down.

"Yeah, but you're loopy as heck right now. And, like, real messed up. I got this." Marceline says, dragging the rag over his neck. 

"Make him drink water. He needs to get the ash out of his system." PB calls.

"I'm fine..." He says, suddenly lacking the energy to move again.

Marceline makes a face.

"You're a horrible liar, Simon." She says.

He can't say anything to that.

"I don't-" She sucks in a breath, "I don't know why you won't let me help you." 

"I don't need-" He starts but is cut off by a sharp glare from Marceline.

He breathes and tries again.

"It's not your job to take care of me." He says. Words are coming easier as the haze of sleep fades. The room around him is still blurry- but that's likely because he isn't wearing his glasses.

She looks hurt for half a second before her expression settles.

"I want to." She states.

"You shouldn't," He blurts out before he can control his mouth.

Marceline looks at him like he's turned blue.

He quickly checks his skin and- it's still brown. Good.

(He wonders if she's seen his ears yet.)

"Simon I-" Her voice cracks, "I- I _care_ about you!" 

He opens his mouth but she continues.

"I don't want to lose you again!" 

"Marcy, you're not going to-" 

"I almost did!" She shouts, "Simon- When we found you, you didn't have a pulse. We thought you were _dead_. _I_ thought you were dead!" 

She's breathing harshly. Simon doesn't know what to say. She slumps forward in her chair, letting her hair fall over her eyes. It had grown out since he'd left.

He only realizes she's crying when he sees water drip from behind her bangs.

He sits up slowly, carefully, and brings himself to where she's sitting. Carefully, gently, he wraps his arms around her.

He waits for her to push him away, accepting it as it comes, but she draws him in closer instead. She buries her face into his neck, an act he knows is unintentional because she avoids it normally.

(He trusts her, but she doesn't trust herself. He thinks that's the silliest thing he's ever heard. Of course she could trust herself.)

"I promised to come back," He murmurs, "And I've broken enough promises for ten lifetimes." 

Marcy's shuddering breaths start to even out, and Simon rubs soothing circles into her back.

"I'm not your responsibility-"

Her grip tightens.

"-But I'm still grateful. I'm _so_ grateful. That I'm here, and you're here, and you want me to be here. That you care. I'm so, so happy, Marceline." He says. He pulls away, his hands on her shoulders.

"Just- just don't do this because you feel like you have to, okay? Promise me that." Simon says.

She nods, smiling, her eyes wet and her face flushed gray.

"And-" His voice completely halts, but he sucks in a breath anyway "And I'm going to... take a break from this... Golb business." 

They're silent for a moment. Marceline is gaping, a bit.

"You are?" 

"I am." He says.

"But what about-" Marceline starts, and he squeezes her shoulder. She stops, looking at him wide-eyed.

"I'm going to take a break... for as long as I need to. And if... and if that break turns out to be permanent, well. There are more important people I have to worry for." He says.

Marceline is looking at him with something akin to hope in her eyes. She quickly looks away and rubs her face dry with her sleeve.

"Pshh- like you have to worry about me." She says, smiling. She's trying to hide the fact that she was crying, and Simon is more than happy to play along.

"You're right- I don't. You can take care of yourself." He says softly.

She grins, still not looking at him, and flings her arms around his shoulders again. He hugs back, grinning like a lunatic and not caring in the slightest.

It reaches his eyes. 

~~~

“Simon?” It’s Bubblegum asking this time. He’s in the Candy Kingdom’s hospital wing, which is sadly packed to the brim since the ‘war’ ended. 

He looks up from his board game with Peppermint Butler- who was currently a baby but still managing to kick his butt at chess. He also wasn’t a butler anymore but it had become a last name of sorts. 

“Yes?” He responds, setting the board aside. Peppermint Butler sticks a pawn into his mouth and sucks on it idly.

PB gently removes the piece from Peppermint Butler and frowns at Simon.

“Do you remember Ricardio?” She asks.

He sighs. He’s been expecting this conversation.

“Yes.” He says. 

“Then do you know what happened to your prosthetic heart?” She asks, seemingly trying to be calm. He’s heard of her insatiable curiosity before. From Marceline mostly, but sometimes from Finn and occasionally from one of the wizards in Wizard City. 

“Honestly? No. It just… isn’t there. I think it’s because of Golb’s effects. I still have all the scars I obtained as the Ice King.” Simon says.

She nods, considering.

“Your base form, correct? That’s what you changed into while in Golb’s stomach?” She asks.

“Yes. I believe that is also why Finn didn’t regrow his arm- it wasn’t part of his true self.” He says. Peppermint Butler reaches for another one of the chess pieces. His clumsy baby hands knock one of the black pawns into a white knight, and Simon frowns.

“How do you do that?” Simon asks, setting his knight aside.

“Hah! Pep-Butts was always good at chess.” PB says, grinning. Her smile falters eventually, and she looks at the black pawn in her hand.

She sits in one of the guest chairs in his room. She looks at Peppermint Butler, who was sitting on the edge of Simon’s bed, and then looks up to meet his eyes.

“What does not having a heart say about your true self?” She asks eventually.

Simon shrugs.

“I don’t know.” He says honestly. And that’s all he can say.

They’re quiet for a moment, neither saying anything. Simon knows she doesn’t resent him for his time as the Ice King. He knows that she should. And he knows that she _won’t_ resent him for his time as the Ice King because she’s made mistakes too.

“When we found you, you were at the mouth of a cave.” PB says slowly, “You were, by all scientific standards and casual observations, dead.” 

Simon looks down at his hands and grimaces.

“Yeah,” He says hoarsely. He swallows down the bad thoughts and focuses on the present.

“Marceline cried for you.” She says, looking him hard in the eye, “She cried like she lost her dad.” 

Simon scoffs.

“Hunson is hardly a father.” Simon says.

PB raises an eyebrow.

Simon bristles a bit at that internally, but he doesn’t let it show. He doesn’t know what she’s trying to get at, but he’s pretty sure she’s not intentionally comparing him to Hunson. It’s all in his head, and he needs to relax. 

“She cried like she lost her dad,” PB says, “And that was for you.”

Simon looks at his king on the board, unmoved since the start of their game.

“And?” He asks.

“And you’re right. Hunson is hardly a father. I think she just calls him dad out of habit.” PB says. She sighs, “What I’m trying to get at is she cried for you. She really, _really_ cares about you, man. And I know you’ve got some issues-”

Simon, despite himself, scoffs. 

“Alright,” She concedes, “A _lot_ of issues, but you can’t keep pushing her away like you’re doing. It’s driving her nuts.” 

“But I can’t keep- keep _leaching_ off of her, either. She doesn’t deserve that.” Simon says.

“Dude, you’re not leaching. You’re like, real messed up at the moment. She’s just making sure her father figure doesn’t off himself accidentally trying to summon an ancient abomination.” She says reasonably, “Is it so hard to believe that people care for you?”

Simon stares at her. _Father figure?_

She groans and looks up at the ceiling, mumbling ‘I’m not the one best suited for this kind of thing’. 

“So look,” She says at last, looking back at him a bit more professional than before, “Marcy’s my girlfriend. We hang out, we kiss, we do stupid dating junk. It’s nice. The catch with all that nice dating junk though, is that you’ve got to take care of your partner. You get this, right?” 

“Yes.”

“Then you’ll know that since I’m her partner, I wouldn’t want her to be stressed, sad, or any of that negative junk, right?” She asks.

“Yes…” 

“And you don’t want that either, right?” She asks.

“Of course.” 

“Then stop stressing her out!” She says suddenly, “I know you’re giving the whole ‘Betty’ thing a break, and while that’s good, it’s not enough dude. You’re trying to distance yourself from her and it’s freaking her out because she’s worried you might die. Which, as we now know, was a legitimate concern and to be honest, I’m a bit concerned too.” 

“I didn’t… I just-” Simon struggled for words, “What’s the point of this? Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you’re keeping secrets,” She says, pointing to his ears, “Your ears have changed. And since you’re not surprised about that, I’m assuming you knew. And you knew about your heart not existing. And you _knew_ that finding a changeling and stealing its bones would be near impossible alone.

“I know you’re going through junk, but don’t drag Marcy through it too. Come clean with her. She’ll listen. She’ll appreciate your honesty more than any white lie you could tell. Trust me, I _know_. And-” She puts a hand on his shoulder, “You’ll feel better too. I promise.” 

Simon often forgot that Bubblegum was, at her core, a nice person. It was easy to see her as a ruler of a kingdom, as Marceline’s girlfriend, as a scientist. And it was easy to recall the mistakes she’s made, which he doesn’t hold against her, but he recalls all the same. But, like candy, she could be sweet. She isn’t a bad person.

Simon smiles softly. He gently slides her hand off his shoulder and shakily nods.

“I will.” He says.

She hums approvingly, and then looks at Peppermint Butler. He’s fallen asleep on Simon’s legs. She scoops up the candy with care, and Simon sets the unfinished game on the table besides him.

“Thank you.” He says.

“No problem, man.” She says. An alarm beeps on her wristwatch, which he just realized she was wearing, and she scurries away, baby in arm. 

“For everything,” He mumbles to himself, sinking back into the covers. 

He wonders, then, how the future is going to play out. He’d always imagine the future with Betty at his side. But it was becoming more and more likely that _that_ wasn’t a possibility. He couldn’t keep chasing after the woman he loved a thousand years ago. That he still loves, so much, but can’t quite feel the sting of heartbreak for anymore. 

He can’t stay with Marceline forever. Even if he wants to, he can’t. It’s less about inconveniencing her and more about needing space. Marceline needs space to be herself, to be with her girlfriend. And Simon needs space where he can temporarily be free of his past. Because sometimes, with everything in his long life, he just needs to be away from it all. 

_But_ , he thinks, he’ll come visit. He won’t house-hunt alone. He might convince Finn to help him search. And he’ll invite people over. And he’ll- he’ll get a hobby or something. He’s not sure yet. He doesn’t have to figure it out now.

For a long time, he only wanted to live for other people. The War was a horror he only survived because he was living for Betty. The apocalypse was something he only survived because of Marceline. If there wasn’t someone to fight for, to love, he would have let himself crumble. Perhaps that was the one boon of the crown. It wouldn’t let him die.

It is a sad thought though, that for at least nine hundred years the only thing that cared about his well-being was a cursed artifact. 

Simon sighs and pulls the covers over his arms, flicking off the light on the table. His room is cast into darkness, and Simon lets himself sleep.

It’s all in the past. And while things will never, ever be the way they were before, he could try for something better. 

A future where he doesn’t need Betty. A future where he is needed. 

(The next day, he tells Marceline. PB gives him the number of a few Oooian therapists. He finishes his game with Peppermint Butler. The day after, he goes house-hunting with Finn and Jake. They don’t find anything, but he ends up telling Finn about ancient Greece. He goes back to Marceline’s house the day after that, and she’s gotten a new couch. And overall, things are relaxing, and good, and he’s happy. And that’s more than enough.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have overreacted when I said that the scene where Simon and the changeling ""kiss"" was super gross, but it gave me non-con vibes and I didn't want to upset anyone without spoiling the chapter. Sorry if I prepared you for something worse!!
> 
> And DAMN. This chapter is nearly eight thousand words. I almost split it up more, but decided it would only screw the pacing. I originally wrote this forever ago, and only posted it because it was mildly spooky and it's Halloween. It was also, originally, a single chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> SO. The first chapter's not that long- but the second chapter is going to be f a t. Like, you think 3000 words is a lot??? DO you? It's not. You have no IDEA what my hands have done.
> 
> Also the yucky scene is in chapter two and that will be posted tomorrow so if you don't want to read it, don't :)


End file.
